


how to save a life

by helahler



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Avengers Family, Character Study, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 17:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6479512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helahler/pseuds/helahler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been two weeks since Barnes had been recaptured by HYDRA when the message came through from the team: they’d found him.</p><p>Or: Days in the life of Helen Cho, as she works with the Avengers, and tries to help James Barnes put himself back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how to save a life

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: mentions of blood and injury, and some vomiting. 
> 
> Set some time after a version of Age of Ultron that wasn't terrible.

It had been two weeks since Barnes had been recaptured by HYDRA when the message came through from the team: they’d found him. 

Helen stared at the message, blinking out at her on the screen of her StarkPhone, bright in the darkness of the room. A turn of her head told her that it was just after three in the morning; the quinjet would be arriving soon. It was standard protocol for a med team to be prepared for their arrival, and while there were other doctors currently on call, she found herself slipping out of bed anyway. She, and the rest of the team - and Barnes himself - considered her to be hisdoctor; it felt wrong to imagine Barnes in the med bay being treated by someone else. She showered briskly, trying not to think of what condition Barnes would be in - the message had only said _medical attention required_ \- or just how badly his time with HYDRA would set his recovery back. He’d made so much progress, in the months since Steve and Sam brought him in. It made something in Helen’s chest ache sharply at the thought of all his hard work being undone by someone else’s cruelty. 

She dressed, in clothes specially picked out for when she had Barnes as a patient: leggings, a pale blue shirt, a cardigan; as un-doctorlike as possible. On their very first meeting, she’d known the moment she walked in that the white coat she wore while working in the lab was triggering to Barnes in some way. He hadn’t reacted in any visible way, but there was a certain stillness to him, a tightness around his mouth and eyes, that had made Helen carefully peel off the lab coat and tuck it away in a drawer, out of sight. 

She’d made other changes to the medical lab since then, based on Barnes’ body language each time he came to visit for his weekly check-ups, watching as he slowly grew warmer and more relaxed with each new change. Each one was designed to make the space look and feel about as far from HYDRA as it was possible to be: potted plants, bright colours, soft warm lighting, quiet soothing music. 

It felt incongruous, now, to step into the medical bay and begin to prepare for Barnes’ arrival; felt sickening, to have this place he’d come to associate with safety be tainted with blood and injury once more. Her team had already arrived, were putting the finishing touches on the room and setting up the surgical suite. They were dressed casually, too, and in their faces Helen saw her own concern reflected back: they liked Barnes; they didn’t want to see him hurt. 

Five minutes later F.R.I.D.A.Y announced the quinjet’s arrival and projected onto the wall a countdown until Barnes’ arrival in the med bay. Helen picked nervously at a loose button on her cardigan, steeling herself for what was about to happen. 

That didn’t make it any less of a shock to see Barnes wheeled in, lying still on the stretcher, pale and bloodied and thin - _god,_ so thin. Rhodey was with him, head ducked down low to murmur quiet words to him, and Barnes was clutching at his hand with a white-knuckled grip, his chest shuddering with every ragged breath.

The moment they got in through the doors Helen’s team sprang into action. Rhodey peeled away, face grim, waving Helen away when her eyes went to the bloody cut on his cheek.

“Are Steve and Sam here?” He asked, over the noise of monitors starting up and the bustle of several people moving around.

Helen shook her head. “They left on a mission an hour before we got the message.” She bit her lip, the realisation jolting through her. “They probably don’t know yet.” 

“I’ll tell them,” Rhodey said, giving her a final nod before striding back down the corridor he’d come from. 

It was only when she turned to focus on Barnes that she was able to get a better look at his condition. From what she could see, his right arm was injured and his left was limp at his side -- deactivated, it appeared. From the waist down he was covered by a thin sheet. Something about the shape of his hidden feet looked wrong. There was bruising on his face and dried blood around his nose, which looked badly broken, and judging by the fresh wet blood soaking into the thin scrubs he was wearing and the bedding beneath him, he had several open wounds on his chest and legs. The fingers of his right hand were curled tightly in the sheet on the bed. He was blinking rapidly, but apart from that he was making no visible reaction to the people milling around him; not a good sign. 

“Everybody out,” Helen commanded, and it was for this exact reason that she had chosen her team so carefully: they all complied, without question or hesitation, and within five seconds the room was empty.

“Better?” she asked Barnes, making sure to maintain eye contact even though it didn’t seem like he was really seeing her at all; his gaze was unnervingly blank. 

Blank didn’t mean empty, however, because after a few seconds he nodded. 

Helen had been very thorough in her analysis of Barnes’ medical files, and the occasions she had treated him had allowed her to compile more notes on how to better approach his treatment, given his previous experiences with medical settings. From what she had experienced, it was clear that Barnes never verbalised any discomfort - unless pressed, usually by Steve or Sam - even when his injuries were enough to cause severe pain, or when the situation brought back some memory of his time with HYDRA. When this happened he went quiet and still and his eyes went blank, but since there was rarely any verbal warning that this was about to happen, treating Barnes was a lesson in patience and caution. Not fear, though; she had only ever witnessed him be violent on a single occasion, and even then the violence had been directed inwards, at himself. 

Typically, though, she found him to be extremely polite, curious, and quiet. This last part was not caused by shyness, Helen knew; his file had noted some difficulties with verbalisation, but it was not that either; Helen herself had had several conversations with him outside of a medical setting, and then he had been casual and warm and, she had noted, more than a little charming. Mostly it just seemed like he didn’t feel the need to speak much. 

“Barnes,” she said, careful to maintain eye contact. “Can you tell me what hurts?” 

For a long moment he was silent. Maybe this was one of those times where words were difficult for him. They had a system for that, too, but they didn’t need it this time, because after a minute he spoke.

“Feet. Legs. Chest. Arm.” He stopped. Helen waited. “Back. Head.” 

“Can I use the scanner?” 

Barnes nodded. 

The scanner was based on Stark designs, but it had actually been Vision who had helped her to develop it into something useable, along with, surprisingly, some useful input from Barnes himself. It was a thin, hand-held bar that she could hold a foot or so above a patient’s body and move from head to foot, which combined with the vital signs F.R.I.D.A.Y constantly monitored could generate a real-time full-body scan of the patient that was then projected as a hologram that she could manipulate. This was particularly useful for patients like Barnes who had difficulties with being physically examined in a medical setting, particularly with the feel of gloved hands on his skin, of masked people in white coats standing over him, of the sharp antiseptic smell of the medical bay. 

He said he didn’t mind, really, when something seemingly innocuous sent him into that blank, distant place, that it wasn’t anyone’s fault and it was just another fucked up thing that HYDRA had left him with, but that didn’t do much to ease Helen’s guilt when it happened, and since then she had taken every measure possible to ensure his comfort. 

Helen had had many years of practice in keeping her emotions from displaying openly on her face, but it was still difficult not to wince as the the full extent of his injuries became clear as the scanner completed its pass over Barnes’ body, revealing multiple broken bones, open wounds, internal bleeding. His legs and feet seemed to have taken the brunt of the damage, though she hadn’t needed the scanner to see that; even covered by fabric, it was clear from their misshapen forms that his legs were broken, potentially in several places. There were several wet spots on the fabric: blood -- possibly from compound fractures. 

She had studied Steve's biology closely enough to recognise that this was not an unfixable injury, even factoring in Barnes’ comparatively slower healing times, but the situation was complicated by the fact that Barnes’ healing factor had kicked in enough that surgery to reset the bones wasn’t going to be enough; parts of his legs that were out of alignment had begun to heal wrong; they would need to be rebroken before Helen could begin to make the bones like they had been before. 

For some of his injuries - particular the deep open wounds on his back and chest, and some of his internal injuries - the Cradle would have been perfect for avoiding more surgery than necessary, but that option had been ruled out early on; Barnes had taken one look at the Cradle and, paling visibly, had said with unusual vehemence, “No. I’m not going in there,” and then, more quietly, “Please don’t put me in there,” and it had taken Sam holding him close and murmuring quiet words in his ear for the harsh tension to drain out of him. 

Time was of the essence, here; the longer Barnes went without surgery the more invasive the procedures would need to be, but there were other issues associated with being operated on and being under anaesthesia that further complicated matters. It would most likely take some patience - and possibly some intervention from Sam and Steve - to coax Barnes around to allowing them to perform surgery. 

So it came as a surprise when Barnes spoke, said, “You should operate. Soon - before I,” he bit at his lip, his brow furrowing. “You can do it, now.” 

“If you’re comfortable with that,” Helen said. “We can hold off until Sam and Steve get here, if you’d like.” 

The three of them were inseparable, practically joined at the hip, and though Helen wasn’t going to speculate as to the exact nature of their relationship it was clear that they were very close. Mentions of them would surely help put Barnes more at ease. 

However, this clearly wasn’t the case, because when she said quietly, “Sam and Steve will be here soon”, Barnes’ face paled - impossibly - further and she barely got the basin in front of him in time before he hunched over and vomited. 

There was a concerning amount of blood, some of which might have been from his broken nose, but the rest she had no visible answer for -- an internal injury, then. After a few minutes there was nothing left to bring up, yet still he continued to dry-heave, though whether it was the pain or something else entirely that was continuing to make Barnes’ nauseous, she couldn’t tell.

Finally, Barnes leaned back, arm pillowed in his lap, chest heaving. He wiped his mouth. His eyes were wet. 

“I don’t want them here,” he said, voice like barbed wire. “If they come here I want you to make them leave.”

“Of course,” Helen agreed without hesitation; as her patient, Barnes was her priority, and that meant respecting his wishes. Regardless of her friendship with Steve and Sam and her curiosity about the whole situation, she had a responsibility as Barnes’ doctor. 

This entire section of the facility was under her jurisdiction, and so ultimately she was the one who had control over who was allowed access to it.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y,” she said aloud, “command to revoke access to the Medical and Research Wing for Wilson and Rogers.” 

“Confirmed. Access revoked. Will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y,” she replied. She turned back to Barnes. “There we go. Unless I override that command, something that won’t happen unless you give me permission to do so, they can’t enter here.” 

Barnes slumped back, all of the stiff tension draining out of him at once. He looked exhausted; he looked defeated. 

“Take me to surgery,” he said. “Please. I. I want it to be over.” 

Helen gave him a long, assessing look. “Okay,” she said finally. “We can do that.” 

+++ 

It was as they were wheeling Barnes into surgery that F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke up through Helen’s earpiece: “Rogers and Wilson have arrived and are attempting to access the Medical and Research Wing.” 

“I’ll be right back, okay?” She said, gently brushing her fingers over Barnes’ wrist. He nodded, still a little pale with stress. 

Helen turned, heading back down the corridor to the main doors, to where Steve and Sam were waiting. They were both still wearing their uniforms, faces smeared with ash and blood; clearly they’d come straight here from their mission. At the sight of her Steve pulled off his helmet and gripped it tightly. 

“Why -- where is he? Is he okay?” He said, voice threaded with desperation. 

“He’s alive, but pretty banged up,” Helen replied. “He’s headed to surgery now.” 

Steve’s eyes widened; Sam frowned. 

“He’s -- what?" Steve said, shaking his head. "We should be there. F.R.I.D.A.Y said our access had been revoked.”

Helen hesitated, looking between the two of them, trying to figure out how to tell them that their friend had specifically requested they be denied entry. There was no good way to put it. 

“He...asked that you stay away, for a while,” she tried. 

Steve shook his head, face twisting with confusion. Sam stepped forward, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Why wouldn’t he want us to be there?” Steve asked quietly, after a long moment. 

"I'm sorry, Steve," Helen said. "Even if I knew the answer to that question, I couldn't tell you. He's my patient," she finished, her meaning clear.

Steve's face crumpled, and for a second he looked like he was about to argue with her, or cry, or both, but Sam's hand on his shoulder seemed to steady him. 

"Okay," Sam said, in the following silence. "Thanks for letting us know. If - if anything changes--" he stopped, cleared his throat, tried again, "please just tell him that we're here for him, whatever he needs. And if that means us staying away for a while, that's okay, and -- he shouldn't feel guilty if that's what he thinks is best. Can you tell him that, please?" 

“I will,” Helen promised, and then gestured in the direction of the surgical suite. “I have to get back.” 

“Okay,” Sam said. “Okay. Keep us updated, if you can.”

Helen nodded. She gave them a brief smile, and turned to go. The corridor was lined with glass, and in the reflections it was impossible not to see what happened as she walked away: Sam’s arms closing around Steve’s shaking shoulders, his hand stroking up to cup the back of Steve’s head as he pulled him in close. 

Helen looked away, feeling like she had somehow intruded on a private moment. She turned her mind towards the broken man currently lying on a table being prepped for surgery, and wondered how exactly she was going to put Barnes back together. 

+++ 

“Are you ready?” Helen asked quietly.

“Can you just,” Barnes said, his right hand twitching by his side, made clumsy by the drugs flooding his system. 

Helen reached for his hand and gripped it firmly, feeling his fingers close weakly around her own. After a few seconds he nodded, slowly, his head settling back against operating table. His pulse slowed; soon he was unconscious. 

“Okay, everyone,” Helen said briskly to her team, giving Barnes’ hand one last gentle squeeze before easing it back down onto the table. “Let’s get started.” 

**Author's Note:**

> So. This has been languishing in my gdocs since..I think pretty much the week after I saw AoU? Despite the fact that I am viscerally opposed to like 90% of that movie, I liked Helen Cho, and also I really, really liked the new Avengers team, so this fic will contain a fair amount of Helen Cho, her friendship with Bucky, and the different dynamics that they have with each of the new Avengers. Mostly I just want to get all these happy Avengers-team feels out of the way before Civil War hits and ruins everything!
> 
> My tumblr is [here](http://helahler.tumblr.com) \- hit me up if you want to yell with me about SamBucky and/or T'ChallaBucky!
> 
> Comments/feedback are really, really appreciated; let me know what you thought! <3


End file.
